Everlasting
by Silver Blazen
Summary: They have been living with a feeling of loss and emptiness each time they think of their family believed lost. But on a holiday hunting trip, Thor and Steve take a moment to reflect on the meaning of Christmas, and discover that perhaps neither of them is as alone as they had thought.


**Everlasting**

 **All Marvel characters belong to Marvel Comics and Studios**

 **{Merry Christmas to all the Cap and Thor fans}**

* * *

He felt it, in the wake of coldness slashing over his jaw. The leather strap of his helmet was stiffening under his broad chin. Steve leaned his weight sturdy against barren tree; poised and alert with his shield resting against his boots.

Narrowing his crystalline azure eyes, breathing out a grunt of frustration, he'd been venting against. Since the quinjet had landed, the super-soldier gritted his teeth as he felt the searing wind chill riddled through his pulsing veins. Although the nomex layers of his dark navy blue spangled uniform served as a protective barrier over his teeming muscles, the Kevlar material was no match against the indomitable December air.

Even though his body tried to the resist the familiar sensation of being on the verge of having etches of ice penetrate into his bones, Steve had a task of measurable importance to complete. Of course, the billionaire genius had to pick the most remote, snowy terrain of Northern evergreens for Christmas tree hunting. Luckily, the captain wasn't alone on the mission.

Thor ambled closer to Steve's proximity with thunderous strides; his stormy blue eyes held a glint of curiosity. The Captain braced himself as a large hand gripped his shoulder, jerking him with a steady hold. Steve evened out his breath, trying hard not to wince, as his muscles flexed against the might of the demi-god's strength."My friend Steven," Thor spoke with a deep, wavering bellow, his hardened gaze locked onto the remnants of discarded pine branches scattered on mounds of snow.

He revealed a great a measure of interest in the mortal traditions that failed to prevail in his realm. He always had been filled with curiosity with the daily lives that he observed while spending his time on Midgard with his Lady Jane. He couldn't deny that his heart belonged back on Asgard. The departure he willed to be granted offered him no peace, he was burdened with unsettled troubles and loitering grief that he allowed to reside in the recesses of his warring spirit. He tried to escape from the avails of his pain, and used missions with the Avengers as distractions to keep his thoughts not dwelled on the past.

"Do explain this Midgardian custom that you and the rest of our teammates have during this winter season?"

A soft friendly smile formed across Steve's chiseled features at Thor's inquiry. He was reminded, despite the couple of years the Asgardian had settled into a semi-normal life on Earth, he was still learning much about humanity's history and its cultures. "It's a holiday in fact, Thor; one that has evolved and carried on in many ways since its origin. We call it "Christmas". It's a bit of a long story…" Steve said evenly, leaving the topic up for Thor to decide whether it was worth a lengthy discussion. Gently, he brushed out of Thor's unintentional firm grip as he slowly made his way deeper into the snowy white fields of tall trees.

It seems like a fair answer, Captain," Thor gruffly intoned with a hint of reverence evident in his rumbling voice, seeming distracted by the invasive truth that barraged his mind with heavy thoughts that he couldn't translate into an understanding agreement. Steve had presented him with an earnest justification about the strange custom of Christmas.

Narrowing his intense blue eyes, he stared at the remnants of snow collecting on the edge of his hammer. A pause in his breath conceived a new question concerning the abiding truth that he saw reflecting in the stillness of lucent, unwavering azure irises that were trained solely at him, without fading into deluge of shadow.

He couldn't breach the emotional depth that was laid bare among them; the solemn downcast of unresolved grief that veiled over Steve's chiseled visage. He knew that his friend was still learning to fight against the devoid that resided in him. An irreparable hole, deep and searing a recollection of Bucky's tormented battles of reclaiming his soul clashed in the soldier's mind. Recovery was needed for both of them.

Thor refused to dismiss the weight of his unparalleled curiosity towards Christmas. Even though he didn't admit it during their missions, he did enjoy these conversations with the leader of his team; their blossoming friendship had kindled as he embraced Steve's unyielding determination and the simplest of his honest answers.

He respected the defiance, and strength his companion carried within; a true warrior at heart, with dense muscles of iron and pure blood rich as molten oil that was forged in the depths of his father's kingdom. He considered Steve a worthy friend—a brother who was worth fighting for...They were strangers to the world before them, almost drifters of time, seeking perspectives of different encounters with technology and errors of humanity.

Within the moments of standing in the heavy snowfall, Thor gained his ground and followed Steve through the passage of ice encased pines. He blocked the path using his towering body as an obstructive force. His stare leveled, deeply into Steve's azure orbs as another question surfaced up his throat."I wish that we resume this topic about your Midgardian customs...I must know in case Lady Jane wants to share them with me in the coming of days."

Steve stood still for a brief moment, in thought, as he considered the earnestness of Thor's request and the reason behind it. "That's as good a reason as any," he nodded with acceptance, "thankfully, the holiday hasn't changed so much since back in my day," he added as an after-thought, shuffling his feet in the pure blankets of white flakes while his gaze swept across the desolate bright landscape. "And it's probably for the best you hear it from me instead of Stark," he conceded; despite the respect and admiration he held for his friends and teammates, he didn't think many of them were very attuned with the holiday spirit—then again, he wasn't much different in that regard either…not anymore at least.

Turning his gaze back towards the patient Asgardian, Steve lips forged into a tight smile as he bobbed his head in the direction forward, gesturing for his companion to follow. "The holiday began a very long time ago—over a thousand years in fact," he began easily, falling into a leisurely pace as he felt Thor's heavy footsteps matching his own beside him, "it was a more religious celebration in its inception than what it is today. But its values haven't been lost as the centuries carried on…Family, friendship, faith and goodwill to all men."

"I see that this December custom holds a great stow of memories..." Thor returned in a low undertone, allowing his voice to trail as he pulled the hood of his billowing red cloak over his braided, golden tresses. The gravity of his inquiry held a distant grievance that he'd burdened himself with since he watched his half- brother fall into the embrace of death when the monstrous Dark Elf's blade pierced through his chest.

He loved Loki as his blood brother, despite all the trickery and vengeance that Loki used to annex the mortal realm; Thor only desired to save his brother from the corruption of a wounded jealous heart. With that, the Asgardian prince dared not to reason with his guilt of not fighting with all his might to spare Loki from entering the domain of Hela. Maybe, Steve was feeling the same clench of pain in his noble heart. "One might think that you are holding back a regret that couldn't yield in battle, Captain."

Steve's steps slowed a crawl; his posture, once lax, became rigid against the biting chill of winter's grasp. Despite his sudden shift in movement, his placid features became ruffled with a familiar flicker of remorse…or was it wistfulness? His gaze remained fixed skywards towards the ether—the heavens—as the snowfall continued its gentle descent. His gloved palm remained open to its embrace; a single white flake fell upon the rough exterior, its essence bright and pure such as one of his earliest memory of the December holiday. He stared at it passively in outstretched silence beside his companion.

"You could say that," he remarked somberly, closing his fist over the wet-drop before sparing Thor a soulful look. Against his greater desire to remain oblique to the matter of his past, Steve couldn't help but feel a somewhat kindred spirit in his fellow Avenger; it compelled him to be more open on the matter—if not for his own peace of mind, than to sate Thor's curiosity. He released a shaky breath, watching as it wafted in the cold air. "Christmas and I go way back to a point in history where things were…much more brighter and simpler, even if the times weren't." He began, inching forward on their resumed path through the glowing field of snow and evergreens.

"I was younger then, just a normal kid in Brooklyn with only newspaper to fill the holes in his worn shoes. But despite that, the holiday never felt empty or cold for me. It didn't take long for me to understand that the holiday is only as warm as the person you're sharing it with."

Thor nodded wordlessly, recognizing the weight of reverence in Steve's voice. His gaze resettled on the falling wisps of snow; caressing over the expanse of his red cloak. Something kept him neutral in those silent moments, a sense of pain coiled in his gut as he searched for a fair meaning of hope behind the captain's words; he didn't celebrate the December holiday, in his realm, things were different. He was raised to embrace the winter's solstice, to enjoy the boar hunts and feast on its victory with his friends and loved ones—it was a peaceful and brotherly time; one that the prince solely missed since he made the defining choice to become an Avenger. This was a new experience for him.

"Captain, I wish to know more about your Christmas," he inquired in a gruff baritone, throaty and firm against the biting cold. He inadvertently moved closer to Steve, his concerned gaze deepened as his fathomless blue eyes held Steve's mirrored stare."Why did it not feel empty and cold for you? Did the warmth that you received come without a price of victory from a hunt?"

Steve shook his head amicably at the thunderer, "more like it didn't come without its share of hard hits."

 _It was cold—cold enough for him to feel the chatter of his teeth grinding at an expedited rate, matched only by his constant shivering. Despite this, the 15-year old blonde boy pushed himself forward against the harsh winds blowing blankets of white flurries against him as he made his way home from the bus-stop. It was close to mid-day, which meant his mom would just be getting home by now; and Buck…he hoped for once he wasn't waiting for him back at his rundown flat—especially after today._

 _The later hour meant the temperature was dropping. He bristled at the nerve-wracking sensation of frost and ice penetrating the front of his torn shoes—the latest of his materialistic casualties with bullies, along with his winter coat and scarf. The skinny blonde teenager hugged his arms across his chest, doing his utmost to stay warm against the chilling onslaught._

 _"Hey kid, trying to get a tan?" Steve pressed onward, ignoring the wise-crack from someone on the street he couldn't see. He kept his gaze forward where he could see his block coming up ahead._

 _"Almost home, Steve," he encouraged himself, wincing as his chattering teeth nearly scathed his tongue in this bitter cold. Turning the corner to an antique store, the Brooklyn son felt measurably better as he weaved down the narrow road, sheltered from the harsher winds by the houses on the block. In the distance, he could hear the gentle hymn of carolers coming from inside a coffee house. "I bet it's nice and warm in there…" he was tempted to go in as he beheld the soft yet colorful Christmas lights flickering in the windows. Inside he could see a crowd of patrons, laughing, eating, singing and making merry._

 _He didn't want to spoil the peaceful atmosphere._

 _"Spare change for soup, young friend?" Steve glanced to his right, seeing an older, frail homeless man seated on the front step with a can in his hand. Wordlessly, Steve reached into his back pocket and drew his last 50 cents the bullies didn't find and placed them in the can. "God bless you, young man," the gentleman smiled with yellowed-teeth. Steve nodded, reminding himself no matter how bad his misfortune, others had it worse._

 _"M-M-Merry Christmas," he stuttered, finally pulling himself away and down the street. The warmth of a good deed filled his heart, dampening the chill in his bones to numbness as he made his way home. He was grateful to see residents shoveling a clear path through the sidewalk. The moment of alleviation lasted until a cold wind crept up on him, reminding him of his uncomfortable situation. "A-A-A-Alm-m-ost…ther—*cough* He felt his lungs cry in protest in a repeated fashion; a fog of disorientation flooded his sinuses and he felt his eyes burn and water, along with his nose. "W-Where am I?" Opening his eyes, he was confused, lost at the sight of an unfamiliar wall of snow in front of him created by the city snowplows that blocked off the corner._

 _He wasn't a big kid, even for his age, which often made him an easy target for the punks and bullies that lurked near each corner waiting to prey on him and others like him. Height was a quality he wished he had, not for the reason of defending himself, but being able to make his own way among a flock of wayward kids—some too lost to be able to see ahead. "S-S-Should have waited for that bus." He gently chided himself. The cold air taunted him as he watched his heavy breath waft from his parted lips. It was getting darker by the minute, and he didn't want his mom to come looking for him—not in this weather. Looking up, he could scarcely read the name of the block on the pole due to the white flurries coating its surface. "F-F-Fantastic…" He tittered._

 _Slow but surely, the gravity of his situation began to sink into him—he was lost out here in the cold, in the snow, so close to Christmas Eve. His thin clothes wouldn't keep him vertical for long before he lost the sensation in his limbs and fell into a ditch._

 _To make matters worse… *cough*_

 _He could feel a cold catching on, turning his bones into fragile glass and his eyes into shutters that would distort his reality even further into hopelessness. His teeth chattering, he soon realized the longer he stood still the faster the cold would set in. His gaze shifted each way across the block, searching for a familiar sight that would guide him. Gazing heaven-ward, he couldn't help but ask, "I-I-If you're listening up there…I could use some help right now."_

 _Unknown to the young blonde boy, across the street his predicament was noticed by a pair of concerned steel-blue eyes that squinted at him from outside a local diner that was frequented by teenage youths. "Steve?" A heavy Brooklyn accent drawled with confusion. 'What are you doing out here?'_

 _"What you think, Bucko?" A shrewd voice asked close-by, disrupting his thoughts with a sudden snap. Bucky's steel-blue eyes swerved momentarily at the quarter-backer, Ronnie Mills, who had the body of a gorilla and the mind of an ant; hanging onto his arms were two ditzy porcelain dolls, who had just as much brain-power and a weakness for big muscles, "you goin' try out for the team next year? We could use someone like you cutting the offense while I carry the team to the next level. Those little clowns won't know what hit em," the jock said in a cavalier tone. The girls giggled at his poor attempt at appearing tough._

 _"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen, Mills. I value my brain about as much as I do my teeth," Bucky said with disinterest._

 _Mills snorted in response, "isn't that the truth, Buck-teeth? Isn't that how you got your nickname, "Bucky"" the teen jabbed._

 _At this, Bucky narrowed his sharp eyes at him, "only my friend's call me, "Bucky"," he shrugged, not caring at all for his company…except for the one huddled close to his right side as they leaned back against the wall._

 _"You okay, handsome? You seem a bit…uptight, which is strange for you since you normally love the snow and all this holiday cheer," Bucky felt himself flush at the silky voice, bringing him from his glum reverie with a playful tease. His gaze lingered over her long taffy colored hair that curled at the end with soft ringlets; a pair of smoky dark eyes that could peer into his very thoughts, and a dazzling pearly white smile that could raise dying men from their beds. He never believed in luck until the day she agreed to become his girl._

 _"I'm fine, Anna. I'm just feelin' a bit distracted…and I think I see someone I know who could use a hand." He nods his head forward, gesturing across the street where they could see a thin solitary figure lingering around in the snow, appearing lost. He had a very familiar head of blond locks. Once the realization set in, Bucky's protective-side had come to the fore-front of his conscious. Beside him, he felt Julianna shift forward with him in a studious manner._

 _"Is that…your friend, Rogers?" She asked curiously, measuring the smaller teenager across the street with the focus of a cat, a small smile playing at her lips as she sensed the urgency of the situation and what it meant._

 _Bucky, timidly, nodded at her inquiry as he turned to regard her fully with an apologetic look. "I think he got into some trouble. Anna, I gotta—"_

 _"Go? Don't let me keep you, handsome. I know how much he means to you," she said easily, her tone understanding and not at all disappointed as he had feared. Bucky had wondered again, how he had been so lucky to find someone, not as beautiful, prized, popular or coveted as her, but someone who was unruffled by all of it—someone who understood him. "But before you go," she said coyly, raising her hand in the air above their heads where Bucky could see, to his elation, a mistle-toe hanging between her fingers. He could already feel his skin burning a blushing red as she coaxed him forward, "you owe me a little something to keep me warm through the rest of this chilly night."_

 _Bucky smirked, undaunted and eager as he took her into his arms and let his lips feather across hers, the chill of winter's grasp disappearing in their heated exchange. "Get a room you too, and let me come with," Mills jabbed as his girls giggled. Ignoring them, Bucky allowed the kiss to last long enough before he could become fully enamored in its spell. He pulled free, offering Anna that boyish grin that he knew she loved, "I'll see you later, kitten."_

 _Bucky turned on his heel and began to sprint across the street. He could hear Anna yell out to him, "Better watch out for him! He'd be lost with you, you know."_

 _"…Just as I would be without him…" He said quietly to himself, as he made his way across. The prevailing winds struck him with the force of a tackle and in a matter of seconds he was covered in flurries. He instinctively began to button the collar of his coat, but once his eyes became fixed on the skinny blonde walking down the side-walk, wearing only his suspender-pants and a white shirt to cover his exposed flesh, he didn't think twice as he shed his winter garb and dropped it on the shivering boy's shoulders._

 _"Not a good night to be walking in your skin." Bucky chided him gently, keeping his hands secured on his shoulders as he began to rub the warmth and circulation back into Steve's numbing limbs._

 _"Bucky?" Steve was both amazed and relieved at the unexpected sight of his best friend's sudden appearance, it made him momentarily forget the cold hopelessness of his predicament. He wondered if perhaps his prayer had been truly been heard or if this was a lucky coincidence…_

 _"You were expecting Santa, Stevie?" The older teen quipped with a simpering smile; one that he hoped would bring levity to Steve's otherwise dour mood. He wondered just how long he had been out here in the cold, and how much longer he might have lasted without him._

 _Hearing his friend's humorous quip, Steve merely shrugged, or at least attempted to, out of his hold. "I-I-I told you n-not to call me, Stevie," he brushed off, doing his utmost to remain vertical as he felt Bucky guiding his staggering steps across the sidewalk as they made their way through the snow. Steve hated the feeling of helplessness and the familiarity of it with Bucky having come to his rescue once again. Try as he did to voice his disapproval, he couldn't quell the warm relief he felt at not being alone._

 _"And I told you to wait for the bus, but we don't always listen do we?" Bucky jabbed with no lack of seriousness in his tone. "Why didn't you? You could have caught a nasty cold by now if you haven't already…"_

 _Steve winced as they stepped over an unshoveled path, feeling the icy cold permeate his damaged footwear. "G-Group of punks got in the way; was too late to catch it… I d-didn't want to keep ma waiting and worried." He said shakily._

 _Bucky exhaled loudly. "She won't be any happier to see you show up a shivering mess either. Why are you out here so late, anyway? School ended hours ago… Let me guess, you went to find a night-shift job, right? "_

 _"I had to, Bucky…Christmas is her favorite time of year…I just wanted to earn enough to find something nice for her—she does so much for me…more than any parent should have to do alone." He walked with his head low, listening to the crunching of the snow beneath his shoes and the billowing of the wind. The holidays were always special to his mother, Sarah—he could remember her bright spirit as far back when his dad was still alive—humming a carol with a vibrant enthusiasm while she decorated the house with Christmas garlands, all while the smell of her famous sugar cookies wafted from the kitchen._

 _Even after his father had passed on, Sarah kept the spirit of the season alive in the Rogers family house-hold, for both herself and her son—going above and beyond to make each year special for "her little soldier". Steve had never felt so blessed in his life when each day he came home to her…and for having Bucky there to guide him._

 _Steve began to forcibly pull his feet as the cold set in and they had become as numb and lifeless as blocks of ice. Before he could register what was happening, the ground was rapidly closing in on his face until he found himself rooted once again on unsteady knees._

 _"Whoa there, Steve, are you sure you're…all right?" Bucky had been quick enough to catch Steve in his arms before he might pancake his pretty face on the icy concrete, but to his exasperation, he realized he had failed to notice the bad shape of his pants and shoes, which were coated with torn holes and a sheen of frost._

 _"Peachy," Steve groaned, wincing at the sting of pain that had returned life and feeling to his limbs. He tried, unsuccessfully to lift his knees up from under himself—it felt as arduous as lifting dead-weight. "I-I…" 'I can't move…' the words remained planted at the back of his tongue, refusing to roll off the tip in both indignation and sorrow for his predicament._

 _"You can't move, can you?" Bucky said knowingly, his tone had grown softer and less cavalier as it was before. It reminded Steve of that night they first met in an alley in Hell's Kitchen where Buck had saved him from a couple of bullies twice his size. Knowing it was fruitless to lie or exaggerate, Steve merely shook his head in response._

 _Bucky nodded in a placating manner as he reached down and hooked Steve's arm over his shoulder. "It's goin' be okay, pal. Just hang on, I'll get us home." Ignoring the younger boy's grunts of protest, Bucky easily lifted him up into his arms and held him protectively up off the snowy surface. "Think you're gonna need new shoes."_

 _"I'll just stuff them with newspaper," Steve said lazily, feeling his exhaustion creeping up on him as he hung in Bucky's arms, staring up at the darkened sky where specs of white fell from the heavens in dazzling wonder. "I'm not thinking about me this year…"_

 _"I know, Steve. I'm not saying don't go out of your way to do something nice for your mom this year, just be careful that you don't wind up in a hospital bed this Christmas instead of under the tree. Christmas isn't all about gifts you know—you think she'd rather have a nice new sweater, or you alive and healthy—there with her when the holiday turkey comes out of the oven, and when she heads to that morning sermon?" Bucky pointed out as they made their way towards his house near the edge of the block. "You're the only gift she'll value pal…and so would I." Bucky said sincerely._

 _Steve only sat in silence, contemplating his friend's words and the merit in them. Christmas had always seemed so materialistic to him, especially in a big city where most people were more concerned about their next purchase instead of helping those in need—those who had far less, not by way of wealth but by lack of relative ties. "We're home…and guess who's waiting for us?" Bucky said coyly. Steve's head drooped as he felt Bucky help him back onto his feet as they made it towards the familiar two-story flat where they rented out the first floor. Turning his gaze upwards, Steve smiled tenderly at the rich and heartwarming sight._

 _"Mom…"_

 _Sarah Rogers stood at the front door waiting with an expectant and relieved smile on her fair features; her azure eyes sparkled with warmth and assurance as she beckoned the two teenagers up the steps where the rich aroma of hot chocolate touched their senses. Steve looked at Bucky who gave him an encouraging nod followed up by a playful pat on the back, "don't think you're keeping that jacket, punk; even if it does look good on you."_

 _At this Steve rolled his eyes and mumbled "jerk" beneath his breath, as he followed his friend up the stairs feeling much closer to the holiday than he'd ever been. Maybe Bucky was right. Sometimes the best gift was the one that you woke up to each day: family._

"I now see the truth, Captain. Your heart holds something dear to Christmas." Thor told him with a measure of sentiment evident in his tone. He paused for a moment, linking all emotions to reason; he had been stoic to his own regrets, fighting to keep the peace within himself during the somber time of his concealed grief. It had taken him a long time to prove to himself that he could preserve humility, sacrifice his pride for others in need; it was a trail of the heart.

When the stillness of cold air became an oppressive force between them, he couldn't avoid his unresolved turmoil to drag him back into the past. A storm was building within him, clashing all his failures and making him relive each of the shattering moments when Loki stood in front of him, staring at him with a glimpse of distant redemption welled in his fading green eyes until the blade lanced through his chest. Those vacant images of his brother's motionless body lying on the remnants of ash crippled his mind and forced his thundering heart to clench, as he refused to submit to the awareness of his pain. Underneath his armor and might, he felt utterly desolated and the unveiling of Steve's memories offered him only a barest sense of comfort.

Regarding Steve with his downcast blue eyes, he made the effort to regard the soldier.

"We are fighters that hold no peace. Our hearts can't recover from this war that rages within, and I sense that you miss your brother, James, as I miss Loki."

Steve closely measured the glistening depth of sympathy in the thunderer's stormy blue eyes—the remorse and understanding he could see wasn't only surprising but it piqued his own curiosity as well. Brothers could be a complicated matter, Steve knew, and at the mention of Thor's brother Loki—The Trickster—Steve dispelled any minuscule sense of enmity for his one-time foe. Perhaps unlike the rest of his team members, Steve was able to see the motive for Loki's actions that had caused the loss of so many lives. His fall from grace as Thor had once described it, reminded the team leader of the man Bucky once was and had been forced to become.

It was a strikingly similarity, even if Bucky hadn't chosen his own path as Loki had, their absence was keenly felt by the two men who, despite not sharing their blood, still thought of them as their family.

"You and Loki weren't always...the rivals you became," Steve spoke methodically, choosing his words with care as he and his traveling companion stood in the open clearing of the forest. "And if I had to guess, the winters in Asgard were about as festive as what we humans have on Earth?" He asked with an inquisitive arch of his eyebrows.

Thor became distracted in his pondering, almost detached from the world as Steve's voice fell into muffled whisper in the clusters of snow. In the recesses of his thoughts, a fond memory of his boyhood didn't assail when he drifted back into the past.

 _As torch light became aglow in the vacant halls, the young prince made his silent journey towards a closed door, while evading any glimpse of his father's guards._

 _In subtle movement he narrowed his distance; taking a deep breath and lifted his hand to the latch. He was disobeying his father's rules, excitement of the falling snow riddled in his veins, which he couldn't restrain. He moved the latch in a slow turn and entered the darkened bed chamber of his younger brother. Feeling a pulse as it rushed through him, young Thor dared a glance at the faint amber light, training his stare back on the ivory pillars, before he moved in hush strides to the occupied bed._

 _"Loki, my brother. It is a grand celebration that our father has commenced." Thor whispered with heavy pitch of utter elation. He quickly sat on the edge of the bed, his grayish blue eyes held flickers of candle light as he crawled closer to the mount of cushions; ruffling the silk blankets as his gaze narrowed at the raven haired boy resting underneath layers of covers. He grabbed Loki's limp arm, and yanked his young brother awake. "Come, dear brother," he coaxed softly, his golden locks brushed over his forehead as he persisted to rouse the other boy from a peaceful slumber. "The winter solstice is upon us! We have much fun to make before father and mother roam our halls."_

 _A grumble of discontentment was a response for a moment; Loki slowly peeled his eyelids open, revealing crescents of pale emerald under the obscurity of the dark bed chamber. He twitched his lips into small grimace. "You never cease to surprise me brother with your rebellious spirit against our father's rules. Whatever you have planned, I wish to have no part of it."_

 _The young prince regarded his brother with a mischievous glint in his eye, "It's nothing like last time. That was entirely my fault. This will involve some fun with your magic."_

 _At that offer, Loki smirked, with a mischievous glint in his eye. Only his older brother allowed him to test the limits of his spells. He was in infancy of his apprenticeship to the queen's sorcery, barely at the levels of training with the elements of fire and ice. Each time he summoned his power, he felt the iciness of rage surging in his veins, a vicious fuel that he tried to contain while under the benevolence of his brother. It was against Odin's wishes to use his talents for childish games, really just a thrill to escape from boredom between his lessons about the Nine Realms._

 _"We can have our fun in the courtyard gardens," he suggested in a low rasp, permitting himself to relish in the sense of thrill. He gestured his hand to the chamber's window, feeling the cold air pulse over his fingers. It was beckoning him to follow the gleams of white purity, almost like he belonged in that somber world. He deemed it as a chance to cause a bit of mischief that was finite, but he had to resist unleashing his powers, even though evidence of spite obscured his pale features. "None of father's guards will notice us in there. We can play until dawn."_

 _Agreeing to disobey the Allfather, Thor nodded and spoke lowly. "We must make haste before Heimdall sees us and alerts father." He regarded the door with a leveled stare of his blue eyes, and then emitted a heavy sigh as he returned his focus back onto Loki. "When I'm king, there will be no need to play in the shadows. I'll create new rules and we can do what we desire, dear brother. That I promise you."_

 _It always wounded him deeply, hearing his older brother boast about the fate of wearing Odin's crown. He was the second born, powerful blood ran in his veins, giving him the birthright to claim what he knew Thor would abuse with his gluttony of pride. He loved his brother, and their connection had seemed unbreakable to the ill sense of jealousy. Still, he wanted to prove to his father that he carried just as much strength to rule Asgard. "I do look forward to the day, we both claim father's throne as ours..."_

 _"Indeed brother," Thor smiled softly, interlocking his fingers with Loki's small hand, and raising it high in a tight squeeze. "We will rule Asgard with your powers and my might," he proclaimed, with no cadence of betrayal evident his voice. Loki wormed his hand free, and rubbed his knuckles with an icy stare of green, holding a brief flicker of disturbed vehemence, before he pulled the garments off._

 _"Come brother," he enticed with a low hiss rolling off his tongue; and quickly secured his robe over his lanky figure. Seeking a distraction, he turned his sight to the window, snow was falling heavy and the rainbow bridge had faded into the covering of white. He reached for the window, enthralled by the brush of coldness on his skin. "Let us rule this night with our fun."_

 _"If you truly wish to use your locator spell this night, you can, for I will allow it," Thor returned in a steady breath, sensing his brother's hidden turmoil of feeling detached to Odin's heart. "You must not be afraid of father. You are a champion of Asgard and his son, mighty blood flows in your veins. Remember that, Loki."_

 _The raven haired prince nodded. There was bare hint of sentiment, residing in his gaze. It seemed genuine, since he held Thor's love greatly in his heart, but time was forcing him to change. He was maturing. Though he was a member of the royal family, he felt distant to the Allfather's bloodline. "Do not flatter me with your insipid hope. I know my place..." Thor furrowed his brow, detecting spite shadowing in his brother's voice."That will never change."_

 _Thor said nothing at that. Darkness was looming over his brother, something he never seen before in all those years of standing at Loki's side as they walked the great halls. "Why do your words hold so much bitterness, Loki?" he asked, leveling his brother's stare. "Tell me?"_

 _"Since when do you care, Thor?" Loki twisted his pale lips into an exasperated sneer, barely aware that his hand clenched into a fist, and yet, he felt icy tendrils of his power smothering his veins. "You are Odin's favored son, there is no doubt about that truth, and I am just a shadow that follows your strides to the throne."_

 _"That is not true, Loki!" Thor protested, his strong hands taking Loki's shoulders into an earnest grip, "father knows your value lies beyond mere strength and sorcerery, but by your wit and cunning. There is not a bilge-snipe nor a Frost Giant you could not outthink and topple!" Thor encouraged with a bright smile that held the power to swoon every young maiden in Asgard, yet also prickle at Loki's nerves were it not for the praise and assurance it conveyed. "And I have always cared, brother, more than perhaps you are aware of. Do not doubt it."_

 _The warmth that his brother offered in that embrace of truth grew unwavering, it wasn't what he deserved to feel. As he summoned enough measured control to reserve his power, Loki drew out a shaky exhale and matched his obscured stare once again with Thor's. He accepted those words, and his tensed semblance fractured upon beguiled reason. "Perhaps you are correct that our father knows my value, but I have yet to prove to him that I can truly deserve it."_

 _"Your time will come, my brother. For both of us! They will one day sing songs of our adventures! And father will bestow you the honor you deserve." Thor assured with an utter surety and warmth that more often than not convinced his younger brother that things will ultimately be all right. Thor would not lie and say it would be easy, his father could be a difficult man to please after all, but he had faith in his family to thrive in the centuries to come._

 _Eager to brighten the dourness of the moment, Thor insistently tugged on his brother's hand, eager to get him out of bed. "But tonight let us break free from this melancholy, and these bedchambers. Let us embrace the beauty of snowy night together. Come, brother! The solstice has begun!" The excited Odinson cheered, making his way for the door. Loki, shrugged but couldn't surprise his mischievous smile that breached past his barrier._

 _"Verily, brother."_

 _The vast halls of the golden palace were spacious and darkened for the evening which made it of minimal difficulty for the brothers to slip by using Loki's magic as a veil. There were few guards stationed, and even fewer servants shuffling about at this hour. Once they had made it passed the royal wing of the palace, they were at ease in their movements with a path to the courtyard ahead in their sights._

 _Thor glanced around idly, "I wonder if Sif is abou—"_

 _"_ _Do you think of nothing else?" Loki chided, with a huff, moving around the edge of a hallway and onto the main terrace that led towards the courtyard. "Come, we are close…"_

 _A knowing snigger bubbled from the back of the elder son's throat, "Do not pretend you would object to her company. I know how you fanc—Odin's beard!" Thor gasped with awe._

 _"By the Norns…."_ _Loki returned with equal measure. Both brothers had lived for many centuries, explored all the nine-realms and seen many breathtaking sights that made them believe Valhalla could not compare, but nothing could compare to the ethereal majesty that greeted their eyes as they beheld their home-world bathed in luminous snowfall._

 _Far beyond the palace, the capital was aglow with lit torches, the rainbow bridge sparkled with life, and the natural blend of the architecture of their people with the element of purity was a beautiful sight that could not be glimpsed anywhere else. The solstice was always beautiful on its first night. Countless many hence, Thor had ignored their splendor in favor of nights spent planning the morning hunt with the Warrior's Three that officially began the holiday._

 _Both adolescent godlings allowed their steps to carry them on a wave of awe into the courtyard where a statue of Bor, their grandfather, stood mighty and immortalized above them covered in white brilliance. "Has there ever been such a fairer sight?" Loki spoke with a breathless smile._

 _Thor nodded as if considering, "well, I have been to the Valkyrie training camp on occasion—" Loki rolled his disbelieving eyes in his brother's direction who merely chuckled, "I jest of course, brother. Yes even I am capable of it. Brunhilde would see me skewered before ever allowing my gaze to settle upon her warriors." He reasoned with an involuntary shudder as they continued on through the courtyard._

 _Thor suppressed another shiver at the cold temperature and glanced at his brother who appeared blissfully unaffected. "How you can stand this cold, Loki? One would think Jotunheim has descended upon us and yet you appear as unruffled as if touched by a spring wind."_

 _"I must be tougher than you. It is the only explanation," Loki tsked with a flippant grin, feeling an edge of pride at the thought. In response, Thor released what could only be discerned as a sarcastic chuckle while Loki caught numerous flakes upon his pale digits. He hummed in amazement as they remained undiminished in their brilliance. Smiling to himself, he allowed his magic to pour through and create tendrils of ice from the flurries._

 _"You've gotten better at that," Thor nodded approvingly at Loki's display of talent, surprising the younger godling with his observation._

 _"Really? Have you been studying my progress?" Loki asked incredulously, if not disbelieving, that Thor would pay any mind to any talent that didn't require a sword or spear._

 _"Aye, tis why myself and the Warrior's Three shall be needing your talents when we carry out the morning hunt!" Thor boasted with an air of excitement that didn't quite match his brother's._

 _"Surely you are jesting once again, Thor," Loki spoke sullenly, allowing the icy tendrils to slip from his fingers and shatter upon the marbled floor coated with blankets of white flurries. Thor frowned at his brother's less than pleased reception and felt as if the temperature actually began to drop even further as a result of his mood. "You know as well as I that your "friends" are less than welcoming for someone of my talents and techniques."_

 _"That is simply not true, Loki," Thor protested, which merely prompted his brother to narrow his green embers at him with annoyance. "Is it not? They can be as dull and dimwitted as the rest of the warriors and nobles who believe true value lies with brawn, and that all problems can be solved with brute force." The raven haired boy shook his head, doing his upmost to erect a steeled and indifferent façade against the bitter chill of unacceptance, however the faintest cracks in his demeanor began to show._

 _"Loki…" Thor piped in a beseeching tone, "Volstagg, Hogun and Fandral may seem overly proud in their skill, and negligent in the strength of other warriors with different talents, but they know that true value does not reside in a warrior's prowess in battle, but in the value he places on brotherhood, loyalty, and honor." He offered._

 _"Do you truly believe I embody those qualities, Thor, that you would be willing to have me at your side among those who think differently of me?" Loki pressed against his greater desire, fear of rejection was a common feeling he suffered through with each rising sun. Time and experience made him accustomed to the feeling around the Warrior's Three, Lady Sif and even his own father at times, but the young Trickster didn't feel he had the strength to endure the same from his brother._

 _Sensing the conflict within his younger brother, Thor felt overcome with remorse that perhaps he had not been as mindful of Loki's turmoil as well as he should have. As Loki's older brother, it was his duty to watch over and protect him from all threats—even if they came in the form of doubt. Seeking to amend this short-coming, the Odinson wrapped his arms around his brother's lanky form and held him in an affectionate embrace. "There is no one I would rather have at my side, brother." He said affectionately,. "There can be no Thor, without Loki."_

 _Loki's eyes had sewn themselves shut in a hopeless attempt to restrain the flow of tears in his eyes, but the ice in his heart had melted and his emotions came pouring forth at an uncontrollable flow. He sniffed softly as he buried his head into the crook of his brother's shoulder, his arms secured tightly around his larger form that anchored him to the world. For a long moment, the two brothers merely held each other in their warm embrace, feeling assured that no matter what trials and obstacles they may face in the future, they would remain inseparable until the day Hela came to claim them both._

 _"Thank you…brother," Loki murmured shakily, once they parted. He briskly dried the wetness on his cheeks, feeling much more at ease than he would care to admit. He regarded his brother thoughtfully, sensing his desire for an answer to his proposal. "I shall accompany you on the hunt," he agreed, despite the likelihood of himself enchanting the weapons of the Warrior's Three weapons into figurines out of annoyance, the Trickster felt eager to participate in the morning hunt that awaited._

 _Thor clapped his hands with excitement, "It is settled! The two of us will fetch a catch grander than any hunters have gathered before us!" He boasted eagerly._

 _Loki smirked he continued to watch the slow descent of the snowfall, feeling a calmness and sense of home that never felt as strong as it did now. His magic pulsed in his veins responding to the chill of winter amplified by the beginning of its solstice. As he and Thor continued to gaze wondrously at the sight, a thought occurred to the Trickster. "Tell me Thor, what is it you value most?" He asked._

 _Thor looked into his brother's eyes and responded easily, "My family." The Odinson revealed softly, softer than he would have been thought capable of, yet the blue of his iris' burned with the strength of sapphires and the devotion of a faithful. Glory and pride could never compare to the warmth of family._

 _Smiling with approval, Loki stepped forward towards the center of the courtyard and began to recite a spell and the magic in his veins began to pulse and materialize in an enchanting spectacle of vibrant blue tendrils. Thor watched it in awe as the magic weaved and flowed as naturally as water. Loki moved the water and its magical properties as though they were an extension of himself. Each motion as fluid as its property, he did not stop until the water had hardened into the indestructible ice—clear as day, and as brilliant as the rainbow bridge itself._

 _Once he was done, the young Trickster allowed his arms to drop and he stepped back, a proud smile finding its way across his face while Thor merely gapped in astonishment at what he had created. "Odin's—"_

 _"Not Odin, just us." Loki corrected._

 _Standing tall , near equal size to the statue of Bor, the young Trickster had magically forged a sculpture of himself and Thor, standing side-by-side; not as kings nor warriors—but as brothers, as equals. Thor, in response, pulled his brother against his side with his left arm. "I do believe our grandfather would feel jealous we make finer statues than himself." For the first time in so long, Loki found himself chuckling at one of his brother's jests; the feeling of laughter was as foreign to him as it was invigorating._

 _Thor soon joined him in response as they continued to gaze up at their empowering visages, "Remember today, Loki. We are not just warriors; we are the Sons of Odin!" Thor boomed holding his fist high, "but more than that, we are family, and as long as we remain as such, all else matters little._

"I can understand why you fought as hard as you did for Loki, despite everything he did…" Steve spoke with clear sympathy after listening to Thor reflect on the brighter memories he still carried from his early youth. His response was surprising to the Asgardian.

Steve turned himself side-ways, away from Thor's gaze as he searched yonder to the snowy horizon, "You both grew up together, fought together; shared something deeper than what most people take for granted. You weren't just brothers…you were both pieces of a whole." The super soldier smiled faintly in understanding, "That's a special bond… There's not a thing I wouldn't do to save Bucky just as you would for Loki. "

Thor blinked with mild disbelief, the emotional toll it took to unburden himself to his fellow Avenger made him feel lighter than he had felt in so long. "I must confess, I did not expect you to understand so easily, Captain." It was a refreshing and welcoming reaction for the thunderer who had, until now, struggled to help his fellow Avengers understand why he could not condemn Loki as easily as they have for his past actions.

"It wasn't easy," Steve corrected softly, his weary gaze stricken and hollow as the emptiness that was felt from within, reflected outward. "Sometimes the hard way is the only way to help you see what matters most, especially when a holiday comes and you find yourself without that person you value most to share it with…" Steve swallowed morosely, the vast pit in his heart stretching wider he felt certain it had engulfed his lungs once his breath had paused in his chest.

The weight of losing Bucky hit him hard back during the war, but the distraction of war had been enough to keep the grim reality from fully sinking in. It was only when he had been thawed from the ice only four years ago, and he had sat alone in his apartment on the first Christmas Eve since the 40s did that heavy weight finally crush him mercilessly, and he had wept and grieved for the loss of everyone he ever cared about—his mother, his father, Peggy…and Bucky. Christmas had never felt so empty to him.

His dismal thoughts were interrupted as he felt a warm and watery cascade from his unblinking azure irises—their emotional turmoil telling more than words ever could. He smoothly dried his cheeks to hide the evidence of his downpour from his companion who listened to him with silence. Whether Thor could sense his emotion, he gave no indication and Steve was grateful. Releasing a heavy sigh, he continued, "There's nothing more important than fighting to save that person you care about, even if…"

"…if all hope for them seems lost?" Thor finished gently, his tone warm and understanding. "Aye. Loss and despair are natural allies, but so is hope and faith, my friend. I cling to mine each day, as should you. Our brothers may be lost to us, but they are not forgotten. And we must take solace and comfort in the knowledge that neither of us are truly alone."

The earnestness in Thor's stare was enough to fill the First Avenger with an invigorating sense of surety in his words; there was no denying their truth and wisdom. Smiling softly, Steve gave a nod of approval; the glistening in his orbs filled his iris' with a brighter shade of blue. Though Steve hadn't at all imagined this tree-hunting trip with Thor would turn out like this, he couldn't say he wasn't glad that it did. Time perhaps could mend the losses he and Thor had sustained, and to do that, they both needed to embrace the blessings they had on this holiday.

"Now come! This mighty tree will not cut itself down for us." Thor boomed with a mirthful grin, clapping Steve's back, rekindling their holiday cheer. Steve nodded again, smiling as they made their way across the white field and observed the numerous rows of towering pine evergreens. Tony's apartment inside the tower was large—VERY large. Therefore, Steve and Thor knew they had their work cut out for them in finding a tree of the appropriate size and majesty.

As they searched through and through, Steve was impressed to see Thor concerned with the tree's integrity and rather than just its beauty and sheer size. Whether that was an innate quality or one learned since Jane Foster came into Thor's life, Steve wasn't sure. It didn't take long before they found a perfect 20-footer that was large enough to fit into Tony's apartment as well as the cargo-hold of the jet. "What do you think; she solid?" Steve asked, watching as Thor came around to his side.

The Asgardian looked slightly puzzled, "'She?' I do not under—"

"The tree, I meant," Steve clarified with a soft smile.

Thor's eyes lit up with realization, "Oh, yes. 'She' is study, fair, and large enough to suit the Man of Iron's ego, I am certain. She will suit us well. I do not believe we would find one better." Thor nodded, grinning widely up at their pick. His wide-eyed awestruck expression reminded Steve easily of an excited child sitting in front of brightly lit tree on Christmas Eve, it was endearing if not amusing.

"Can't argue with that," Steve nodded amiably, feeling a pulse of cheer in his veins as he imagined everyone else gathered together tonight as they decorated their new tree. Natasha, Sam, Tony, Clint, Bruce, Maria, Wanda, Scott, Vision and Thor; they weren't his Howling Commandos, they weren't Joseph and Sarah Rogers, they weren't Peggy Carter and Bucky Barnes…but they were now a part of him, and he was grateful to call them his new family.

Steve reflected on how far he'd come along in the four years since he had awoken in this new era. Despite losing everything and everyone he ever knew, he would be remiss to think he hadn't gained more in those 4 years in this era than he had in the 28 he had lived before he'd fallen into the ice.

"Do you wish to have the honor?" Thor asks lively, gesturing towards their pick with his hammer, "or shall I?" The Odinson had toppled many pines larger than the one they stood facing, some for tasks as simple as acquiring fire-wood and others to be used as weapons in the heat of a battle. This task would require very minimal effort for his strength and the might of Mjolnir.

"As strong as you are Thor, I think this job will require more than one tool," Steve offered as he removed his shield from the slings on his back. As capable as Thor was with his hammer, it would shatter the pine to pieces with its blunt force. Precision was required with it.

Thor nodded, realizing to what the captain was suggesting. Taking a ready posture, he steeled himself and waited with Mjolnir gripped tightly in hand. Once Steve had pitched his indestructible shield into his sights, the Asgardian swung his hammer against it with minimal force. Both Avengers watched as the shield reacted with the speed and precision of a ballista as it sailed across and cleanly cut through pine along its base with pinpoint accuracy. The thunderer released a victorious yell as the pine remained balanced for several moments long after its cut before it teetered towards them.

"Heads up," Steve called out. In response, Thor raised his arms and with his godly strength, effortlessly caught the peak of the tree before it could hit. "Yeah, I guess hands up works better," Steve amended. Thor chuckled hollowly as he set the tree down beside them. Steve tested its weight in his arms before giving it a nod of approval. "I think a single set of either hands will be enough to get her back to the jet."

"Of that I have no doubt." Thor began effortlessly pulling the pine into the clearing.

Steve touched his earpiece radio and spoke candidly as he moved to retrieve his shield down the path of its trajectory, "Barton, we got the package. We'll be heading back shortly." He reached low and retrieved his emblem in a mound of snow not far from his position.

"Aye, aye old man," came the weary and flippant response from their pilot, his words ending with a comfortable yawn.

The edge of Steve's lips quirked into a bemused smirk as he cleaned the snow off the surface of his vibranium emblem. "Something I'm missing?" He asked curiously.

"Captain," Thor's vigorous voice called aloud from over his shoulder, distracting Steve from Clint's muddled response. "What more can you tell me, about Christmas?"

'I hope he doesn't ask about Santa next,' Steve thought, dreading the idea of Thor wanting to take a trip to the North Pole to meet "this gift-bearer, riding an enchanted sleigh" as he referred to him once.

Thankfully, Thor had a follow-up question for him, "Is hunting game a part of the celebration?" The Odinson recalled how each day back home when the solstice began, he, Loki and the Warrior's Three would partake in a wild hunt to capture the most prized and ferocious warhog to be served at the festivities later in the evening. The hunt was always a time for camaraderie, bonding, storytelling, jests and fun.

"Like for sport?" Steve asked, closely examining Thor's question with his back still turned, "...Well, it's not really uncommon in certain parts of the world, but we mostly get our fun and workout in a more…manageable way," he responded fondly, drawing back on the brighter memories of his youth that involved himself, Bucky and trenches built in the snow across from one another with a large supply of balled ammunition.

"Oh?" Came Thor's knowing response, a soft crunching sound blew on the wind.

Steve wasn't sure if he misheard, but it held a level of mischief to it. "Yeah, see what we—"A sudden forceful impact struck him at his upper-back, not strong enough to have forced him to his knees, but enough to send a biting chill down his back at the familiarity of it.

Steve stood still and blinked, unsure if that was what he thought it was. He didn't… He turned around to regard Thor. "Did you just—" Steve reacted sharper and raised his shield in time to block a snowball in the shape of a small boulder headed towards him. The force of the collision sent him spiraling backwards into a hill of snow, he was certain the sky and ground had switched places. He did…

"Come, Friend Steven! Let us embrace!" Thor bellowed with a booming laugh as he used Mijolnir as a club to send another boulder-sized snowball in Steve's direction.

Steve dodged it in time, and touched his earpiece. "Barton. I think we're gonna be a bit longer out here," Steve released a breathless chuckle, a twinkle reflecting in his driven blue iris' as his cheer and adrenaline reached a feverish pitch.

Back in the quinjet, Steve's last transmission had gone unheard in the cockpit where a slumbering Clint Barton laid back in the pilot's chair, comfortably dozing off to a holiday carol playing on the radio.

Steve threw his shield towards the branches of the tree above Thor's head which sparked a miniature avalanche of snow upon the surprised thunderer. "Some things don't change," Steve grunted with a smile, rushing to recover his shield as the enormous blond snow-man began to whip up another over-sized ball, "they just get bigger."

Forming their large weapons of offense, Steve and Thor continued their snowball fight into the night; the cold emptiness they once felt at the loss of family and brotherhood had begun to abate with the stronger bond they now forged. A warm and comforting memory to draw upon for themselves each year Christmas would come.

 **The End**


End file.
